


4:55 pm

by seatealover



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Ruby & Sapphire & Emerald | Pokemon Ruby Sapphire Emerald Versions
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-25 02:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6175939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seatealover/pseuds/seatealover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So you think you've made a mistake, and the former Hoenn champ thinks he can fix part of it. He's not far off, but he's got the right idea.</p><p>Updates on a bi-weekly to weekly basis. May update randomly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting for a second time

It was warm. The crinkle of sheets, and the ruffle of your hands met cool blankets, which had missed your touch for the short hours you’d been out cold, dreaming. Only the warm glow of the Christmas lights you had strung up earlier this month illuminated the outlines of your surroundings as you got up and squinted at the wall clock.

 

3:21 am.

 

Not like you had anything better to do, anyways. Your feet meet the ground as you swing your legs over with slow lethargy, feeling the ache return to your joints as you stretched. The trophies from the past couple of years sat in the corner, seemingly waiting for your attention with their dull glow.

 

2011 Championship Series Winner – Pokémon World Tournament Representative Challenge Runners-Up – Type Expert Round Robin Elimination Champion; all of them sat along with innumerable ribbons and smaller trophies littered on that small countertop. Your apartment was always cluttered with these trinkets that eventually seemed to lose meaning after a while, and you thought about selling them as memorabilia to those fanatics that wanted to actually _keep_ them for some reason, but never got around to doing it. Some of those things still lie in dented cardboard boxes that you’d shoved into the storage closet you never used.

 

The vague and lonely honks of car horns on the street drew you to the velvety curtains as you pulled them aside to watch the street traffic flow in their own ruminant ways thirteen floors below. The city itself was glitter. Windows glowed blue, and whenever you glanced across the street to the skyscraper adjacent, the kid would always be watching television, a bright blue glow coming from the flat screen. His room was decorated neatly with overly large vinyl glow-in-the-dark stars, and when he noticed you staring out your window at nothing in particular, he would have his Chinchou blink its antennae frantically to get your attention, and then wave wildly. He used to shyly pull his speckled constellation curtains shut. When did he come to like you? The notion always brought a small smile to your lips and you would gently wave back before leaving the sill to carry on. You sometimes wondered if the kid knew who you were, but brushed the thought aside.

 

Castelia was completely different from Rustboro, wasn’t it? After victory at the League and leaving everyone behind, everything seemed to lose meaning. Daily interviews with the media became bland, no matter how much money each station offered to hurl at you for a short appearance. People would eagerly tail you around, and some Ace Trainers were arrogant enough to assume that you had enough time on your hands to battle them whenever they posed a challenge. Roxanne would try to stay in touch and leave you countless voicemails before one day, those even stopped coming. (Was she frustrated? Good thing she gave up, then.) You sold the villa that had been handed off to you in Sinnoh after some poser blew your cover to the media, and then bought out a small upscale apartment in Castelia with renovations. Maybe you were seeking quiet, or simply an eccentric way of living. 

 

You had more than enough money to make a living, and throwing on sunglasses and a large knitted beanie became routine. Unova was cold enough for you to get away with it. Your PokéNav buzzed – 2 unread notifications.

 

10:01 pm

> PC update: successfully transferred Pokémon from BOX01 to Bank. Contact PC Support with any additional questions.

 

12:46 am

> Unova News: [breaking news coverage] New ruins discovered in northeastern Hoenn neighboring Lilycove. Rustboro specialists from Devon Corporation’s research facilities sent to investigate anomalies.

> Still no sign of Hoenn Champion after 6 months of disappearance. League Association releases official statement, “Champion is currently present, and will facilitate the League Cup in upcoming battle season. Wallace has legally agreed to substitute for incoming challengers. There is no need for concern at the moment, and all questions should be directed at the Association for the time being.”

 

The last bit was momentary relief. So Drake and Phoebe were definitely covering for you; that sounded like something that Drake would write, to be honest. And Wallace, too. You silently thanked the water-type specialist and reminded yourself to take him out to dinner at the upscale restaurant near Unity Pier.

 

You immediately jumped, startled, as a lulling melody wafted from the living room. _Someone’s playing the piano._

 

Your greedy footsteps carried you there as you watched his fingers dance nimbly across the pale keys, stumbling occasionally from the lack of consistent practice and the Band-Aid wrapped clumsily around his pinky. Your next-door neighbor pounded on the wall once and both of you flinched, breaking out into hushed laughter. 

 

“ _Für Elise_ , really,” you snorted, holding back a soft smirk. “You idiot, couldn’t have picked something more original?”

 

He looked up with a mock expression of having taken offense, bringing his hands up in surrender. “Hey, cut me some slack.” His steely eyes flashed with mischief. “I haven’t seen you in months, and you greet me like this? Come on now.” He feigned a resigned pose when you frowned. “Kidding.”

 

“Says the guy who proposed rock climbing for a romantic evening out. I nearly died.” Okay, you were exaggerating. You nearly pulled him off the side of the cliff too because your harnesses were connected through the metal clip thingies, but doesn’t change how you literally had to cling to him for the rest of the time while he hauled both of you to the top. He had a good laugh about it, and then you never brought it up again. It’s been at least a year since the incident, you realized. 

 

There was a short pause that hung in the air briefly before he spoke again. “I, ah.” Pause. “Sorry. I can’t seem to get it together. I haven’t seen you in such a long time.” He smiled. (Was it strained?) “I’ve been worried, but I know you’re responsible enough to take care of yourself. I’m glad to see that you seem optimistic.”

 

“Um, right.”

 

“How have your Pokémon been doing?” He’s referencing it again. Not only your team, but also the legendary that you’d managed to capture months ago. Wasn’t that supposed to be out of the way already? You felt obligated to defend yourself.

 

“They’re all in the PC,” you forced, tensing up. “I, uh, haven’t really had time to do anything with them recently, so I transferred the last of them to Bank since Birch has his hands full with field research.” Guilt crawled up your back as Steven’s expression fell into encroaching disappointment.

 

“It’s a responsibility, but I understand how you feel.” He stood up and opened his arms to you, an inviting embrace. “You must be so exhausted.” And you forfeited, falling into the hug and squeezing back tightly without a word.

 

Steven ran a hand through your hair, stroking your head patiently. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been going though.” Another pause. “Apologies for not having found you earlier. You must’ve seen the recent debacle happen on TV, but that’s no excuse.” You couldn’t think of a response. Besides, if you even tried, you’d probably cry. You buried your face deeper in his shoulder and let out a shaky breath, trembling in his grip. 

 

“Roxanne is angry, but I know you aren’t surprised about that. She’s been worried sick about you. Then she tried to find leads on where you might’ve gone since she was the last person you stayed with, and then finding that you’d packed all of your belongings and left…” His body shifted as he exhaled. Clearly, he was tired too. “It’s late. We should probably get to sleep.” He glanced down, hand still on the square of your back and tucked around your waist to support you as you continued to shake.

 

“I.” A quiver in your voice, and tears. For Arceus’ sake. You really didn’t want to fucking cry, not right now. Not when barely he came back to visit you. “Didn’t.” Gasp. “Mean it.”

 

For the rest of the night, you fell asleep in his arms on the couch with a blanket haphazardly hanging off your shoulders.

 

***

 

“Update me.”

 

You paused, hand faltering as you spilled scalding coffee across the marble countertop. “U-update you? On what?”

 

He hesitated with a finger up to pause you as he sipped his straight black brew, and responded, “Anything. What’s been happening with your life?” He looked unruffled, despite the fact that his clothes were all wrinkled up and his usual dreamboat hair was tousled.

 

You tossed a towel at the wet spot and mopped it up. “I told you half of it last night. Or most of it. I can’t remember.” Damn, more like half-sobbed your life troubles while drifting off. He seemed unfazed though.

 

“You seemed worried about what most normal people would be concerned about.” Your favorite Pikachu-print mug tilted in his hand again as he took another sip of coffee. “But how about… other normal things?”

 

“Hmm.” You drummed your fingers lazily and then pushed away from the counter, pulling out more fancy china and silverware from the cupboard. “Serial dated because I was bored. I met some dude from Sinnoh who claimed to collect shards, and he kind of reminded me of you. Just slightly, though.” You took out some microwave pasta from the freezer and did a double-take before tossing it back in, reminding yourself that you had a guest over and that you weren’t supposed to treat guests with your petty frozen 2-minute prep dinners. “Whoops, that’s gross. Anyhow, I dumped him. He was a weirdo.”

 

Steven laughed, a bit incredulous. “Wow.”

 

“I know!” You couldn’t help but laugh too. “I took art classes at a studio sponsored by Burgh on Mode Street. And before you mention it, it’s not Studio Castelia. It’s far less mainstream, and this seventy-something year old man from Kanto runs it. He’s got a show in Kalos right now – shit, I’m digressing. Anyhow, he’s great and all, but another one of his budding students recognized me, and I quit immediately.” You grimaced.

 

“That would explain the oil paints and such laying around your apartment, then. I was wondering about that.”

 

“I don’t know.” You finally sat down next to him at the smaller table with your own mug of coffee, tearing open a packet of sugar and generously sprinkling it in. “I’ve probably mentioned this to you last night already, but I don’t know where I’m going with my life right now. I’ve become some kind of recluse.”

 

“And that’s not surprising, with what you’ve been through,” he murmured back. “You need time.”

 

7:36 am. The sun rises, and drowns out your fluorescent light as natural rays stream in through your large paneled windows. The cooing of Pidove on the windowsill above fills the silence as Steven gets up to finally cook something; Hoenn-style gazpacho with a side of veggie burgers, he tells you. Your favorite. With a contented grin, you get up to help him.


	2. On friendly terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you become reacquainted.

You knocked over his crowned king with your queen.

 

“Checkmate.”

 

The end of January had passed without much fervor, but Steven came to see you on a regular basis now. Sometimes he would walk in through your front door in his tidy black frock coat, arms stuffed with brown paper bags full of groceries. If you didn’t get up at your usual eight o’clock to make breakfast because you stayed up too late the night before doing something, _sometimes_ food would already be waiting on the dinner table. (Not that you minded having a good omelet or basil pesto sandwich, of course.) It was nice that he was perceptive enough to understand when you needed alone time.

 

He’d then often be out doing Steven things for a solid six hours, come back to check on you, and leave again. It was unusual, but it became routine for another month.

 

“What, perfected yourself at chess too?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Incredible.”

 

“Stop that. It’s embarrassing,” you choked, slapping him lightly on the arm. “I’ve had more time on my hands than I’ve ever had before, so I might as well do something productive with it, right?”

 

“That doesn’t stop me from being impressed, but whatever you say.”

 

Steven glanced around your apartment again with awe in his eyes. “This is a nice alcove you’ve made out for yourself. I’m almost tempted not to leave.”

 

_Then don’t._ “Oh, yeah. It took time to get the studio all set up with the lights and such, but everything else was kind of in the works already when I originally moved in. The entire flat is really nice.” You cleared the chess pieces into the denim baggie and rolled the mat into a tight loop. “Anything you wanted to do next? I don’t want to bore you with my little shenanigans. I mostly do research and reading to keep myself entertained, and…”

 

“No, you’re not boring me,” he cut in. “I came to keep you company. Don’t think for a second that it’s because I feel obligated to stick around. I _want_ to be here.” He turned around to meet your stare. “Stop worrying.”

 

“Um… okay. How’s your… girlfriend? Cynthia?” You came to a blank before thinking of another coming up with another topic to mull over. You mimicked what he’d said before. “Update me.”

 

He coyly smirks, recognizing the cue. “Well, alright. She and I broke up.”

 

You drop the bag with the chess pieces as they scatter noisily across the floor, some rolling underneath the fridge. “What?” Shit, you didn’t mean to come off so surprised. “Wait, no way?”

 

“Ah; it was mutual. And bound to happen eventually, too,” he replied, shrugging as he stooped to help you pick up all of the dropped pieces. “Cynthia has a unique perspective on a number of things that I happen to care about, and these disagreements brought us to a point where it was dysfunctional – and you know I can’t tolerate that.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Sometimes. I mean, I’m not one to argue. Much more of a pacifist than anything.”

 

“Tell me more. I’m loving this gossip.”

 

He frowns. “Uh. I have a splendid idea, why don’t we – clean? Your apartment?” He winced at his own excuse to try and ease away from the topic you’d brought up: the apartment was literally the cleanest it’d ever been in ages, no point in cleaning it more. You grinned innocently. Checkmate for the second time in one day. “Or how about a walk? Walking sounds nice, the weather has been quite pleasant, don’t you think.”

 

“Steven, it’s snowing,” you giggled. “Spill.”

 

He exhales through his teeth with a low whistle. “I guess I have no choice. It started with really small things, like mineral composition and disagreements about the origins of relics, or the ages of historical texts. When we stayed here in Unova, we got in a few minor disputes and she would stay at Caitlin’s villa until it blew over.”

 

“Ouch.” Nerds arguing over nerdy things, a classic.

 

“Right,” he concluded with a shrug. You couldn’t quite read his expression; maybe because he knew if he wasn’t careful, you might bring up… “Some events are inevitable.”

 

You picked up the last chess piece – the white queen you had played with – and tossed the bag into the basket of trinkets in the far corner with a click of your tongue. “I’m not sure I get your deal with relationships, but sure. That sounds _pretty inevitable_.”

 

He gave you a look that left you puzzled.

 

***

 

It’s cold. Your hand darts for blanket. Nothing there.

 

Shudder.

 

You lay still and listen to your heart frantically racing, left panicking after that vivid dream. Wait, that’s not right – nightmare. Definitely a nightmare. Holy shit.

 

Instinctively, you scroll through your list of contacts and squint through the harsh light cast from the PokéNav screen, punching the name you came to and shakily holding the device to your ear. You don’t even bother to pick the blanket off the floor.

 

Dial tone three times. It goes to voicemail.

 

“S-Steven. Sorry for calling so late. If it’s not too much trouble, could you come over? Lo…” You halt immediately and swallow the words that came all too naturally to your tongue. Damn it, don’t sound so panicked! He’s going to worry. Do you want him to worry? “Wah, slipped. It’s fine if you can’t make it. Bye.”

 

Flopping back onto your pillow, you try to calm yourself. The honks, white noise, heartbeat, sleep. Breathe in deeply, hold it for ten seconds, and exhale – a buzz. Near frantic, your hands grope for the PokéNav – _where the hell did you put it_ – on the sheets, and you answer.

 

Simultaneously: “Hello?” One voice concerned, the other… well.

 

Muffled across the line: “Shit! Sorry, I stubbed my toe on the closet door. I’m getting dressed to come over – I got worried because you sounded like you were on the verge of tears. Arceus’ sake, I’m groggy and I don’t seem to have a filter on what I say, just stay put.” He sounded sheepish, but he was worried. Yes, you definitely wanted him worried. He must be staying somewhere nearby, but nothing came to mind. Did he even tell you where he was staying this week?

 

“Alrighty.”


End file.
